


this time you were last to speak

by pluviales



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Drabble Sequence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluviales/pseuds/pluviales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>    <span class="small">"smoking kills"</span><br/><span class="small">"so does life."</span><br/></p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>three times grantaire managed to have the last word. one time he did not.</p>
</div><span class="small"></span><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/>
    <span class="small"></span>
    <br/>
    <em>rating for one use of strong language and mature themes</em>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	this time you were last to speak

**Author's Note:**

> this was the product of a late night and 'I'll Drown' by Sóley playing on shuffle - hope you enjoy it

“smoking kills.”  
he points at my lips and they curve upwards; i no longer fight the smirk.  
“so does life.”  
he laughs softly at this, shaking his head.  
“spare me the melodrama, grantaire.”  
i smile.  
“i’m not the one who walked in and condemned a man to death.”

***

“smoking kills.”  
he speaks from behind the newspaper pressed close to his nose; i no longer can hide my failure.  
“so does poor eyesight.”  
he sets down the broadsheet at this, sighing heavily.  
“you couldn’t stay on the wagon for even a week, grantaire.”  
i shrug.  
“i’m not the one who speaks as if i wish to dig the grave myself.”

***

“smoking kills.”  
he pushes away the packet and rolls onto me; i no longer crave the nicotine.  
“so do you, mon cher.”  
he brushes my cheek at this, leaning in nearer.  
“i love you, grantaire.”  
i soar.  
“i’m not the one who could deny that.”

***

“smoking _fucking_ kills, grantaire.”  
he grips my cold hand tightly; i no longer feel the touch.  
“now you tell me.”  
he kisses my forehead at this, wetting it with tears.  
“i love you, grantaire.”

i sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> as forever, comments and kudos are always treasured; even on a little scribble like this! ♥


End file.
